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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29233323">My Place</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuperFrikinAngsty/pseuds/SuperFrikinAngsty'>SuperFrikinAngsty</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman &amp; Terry Pratchett</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Bit of Fluff, HMCWTIYS, M/M, What happens after the bus stop?, bit of angst</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 09:15:29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,602</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29233323</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuperFrikinAngsty/pseuds/SuperFrikinAngsty</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Aziraphale and Crowley have just saved the world. They're heading back to Crowley's flat. What they both need is a hug. What they get… is not quite that.</p><p>~For HMC's "Write This In Your Style" challenge~</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>32</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>My Place</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Oh, there it is,” Aziraphale pointed towards the bus coming to a stop. His face scrunched up a bit when he read the town on the lit up sign. “It says ‘Oxford’ on the front.”</p><p>“Yeah,” Crowley agreed taking another sip from the bottle of wine he had opened for the pair to share, “but he’ll drive to London anyway. He just won’t know why.”</p><p>Aziraphale turned his eyes down and away from the demon next to him. “I suppose I should get him to drop me off at the bookshop.”</p><p>Crowley turned his whole body towards Aziraphale. He paused, biting his lip for a moment. “It burned down, remember?” Aziraphale returned his gaze to meet the demon’s through his sunglasses. His eyes glinted in the moonlight with forming tears. “You can stay at my place, if you like,” Crowley offered.</p><p>Aziraphale opened his mouth to reply, only to close it once more. “I don’t think my side would like that,” he finally settled on saying aloud.</p><p>“You don’t have a side anymore,” Crowley pointed out. “Neither of us do. We’re on our own side.” The angel swallowed as he watched the bus come to a stop. Crowley stood and extended his right hand towards the man still seated. He tried to give a light smile, but it faltered the longer the angel remained still. As he turned and his hand fell, it was suddenly gripped tightly by one that was surprisingly warm and soft. Crowley jerked his head back to stare at Aziraphale. “My place?” he asked softly.</p><p>The angel nodded and the two boarded the bus, hand in hand. Crowley held on loosely, for fear that if he held on too tightly, the angel would flee. He led them to a pair of empty seats and sat down just as the bus pulled away from the bench they had been seated on. Neither of them spoke. Crowley watched the angel through the sides of his glasses, noticing how Aziraphale’s eyes continuously flit about the bus in search of some nonexistent threat. He tried to squeeze Aziraphale’s hand in reassurance, but the angel only jumped and pulled his hand away.</p><p>Crowley sank into the seat, his hand cold once more. As soon as the bus finally stopped in front of his flat building, Aziraphale was up and out into the night. Crowley hurried after him. “Aziraphale, wait!” He ran to catch up with the angel. “Let’s go inside,” he suggested. “Nice warm cup of cocoa?”</p><p>“I need a minute,” he hesitated. “Alone, please.”</p><p>Crowley tried to balance his voice. “Yeah. Of course. Take your time. I’ll be… upstairs, I guess.” He turned and made his way back to the building complex, glancing behind him only once. Crowley made his way slowly to his flat, nudging open the front door with the toe of his boot. He was immediately hit with the stench of Ligur’s still-rotting puddle of demon goo. “Should probably mop that up…” he mumbled, tugging off his glasses. He started, dropping them into the Holy Water when his phone rang. “Shit!” he bent over the pool as close as he dared, groaning as he realized the lenses were past saving. He sighed and looked at his phone. It was Aziraphale.</p><p>“Crowley?” the voice came through the phone, subdued and scared. “I don’t think I should come up.”</p><p>Crowley closed his eyes and sank against the wall, leaning his head back until it connected with the drywall. “Fine.”</p><p>Aziraphale hesitated. “Fine? That’s all you have to say?”</p><p>“What do you want from me, Aziraphale? To beg? I’ve already done that. I’m tired, Aziraphale.” His voice softened. “I’m done.”</p><p>“Done?”</p><p>“Done.”</p><p>“With what, exactly?”</p><p>Crowley took a deep breath. “With you.”</p><p>“What? Six thousand years, and you say you’re done–”</p><p>“Exactly!” Crowley sprang up, his voice rising in pitch and volume. “Six <em>thousand</em> years I’ve been chasing you! And you’ve never once thrown me a scrap, a bone, anything! I’m tired of you living in fear. We’re free! Can’t you see that?” Crowley’s voice quieted down. “You can’t see that, can you? You never could.” Crowley steeled himself, barely managing the words. “Goodbye, Aziraphale. Enjoy the rest of your life.” With that, he hung up. He tossed his mobile into the demonic remains along with his glasses. He didn’t need it anymore, anyway.</p><p>He walked to the wall that sealed off the plant room from the rest of the flat and pressed his forehead against the cool stonework. A single tear slid down his cheek before he pushed the wall open and screamed.</p><p>Aziraphale was still standing on the pavement, bewildered as he stared at the mobile phone in his hand. Surely Crowley wouldn’t leave him now. It was just a row, nothing new in their… <em>friendship</em>, Aziraphale realized. What he and Crowley had was friendship. A bit more than that, if he was really going to be honest with himself. And why shouldn’t he be? After all, it was no longer the end of the world. And Crowley did make a good point. He shouldn’t force himself to live in fear any longer. He tucked the mobile back into his pocket and glanced up towards the windows he knew belonged to Crowley.</p><p>It wasn’t until he heard the scream that he began running. “Crowley!” Aziraphale pushed his corporation up the stairway and to the front door of the flat labeled <strong>A. J. Crowley</strong>. He didn’t even bother to wipe his shoes as he bustled into the foyer. “Crowley?” He looked around, freezing when a familiar stench hit his nose. “No…” he whispered, rushing towards what appeared to be an office. “No!”</p><p>Directly in front of him lay the remains of what was clearly a demon. Aziraphale would’ve doubted who the puddle belonged to if it weren’t for three things:</p><p>One. The pair of sunglasses that lay bent and broken.</p><p>Two. The mobile phone that still had the screen unlocked to reveal a picture of the Bentley.</p><p>Three. The upended and empty tartan thermos that was once filled with the holiest of waters. It was empty now, that much Aziraphale knew for certain.</p><p>“It’s all my fault,” he whispered, sinking to his knees. “Oh, God, it’s all my fault!” He began sobbing, his corporation tearing at the seams as his entire being shook with grief. Aziraphale reached out and touched the edge of the puddle, expecting it to burn him. But it didn’t. It was cold against his fingertips. Cold like the emotion that was settling into Aziraphale’s stomach. It was an emotion Aziraphale had never felt before, but he was positive it was the only one he would ever feel again.</p><p>It was the only one he deserved.</p><p>“And if I <em>ever</em> catch you slacking off like that again, the garbage disposal will be a mercy!” Aziraphale’s head whipped around so fast that if he were human, he would have surely sustained injury. There was the back of a head of flaming red hair, the narrow shoulders and slim hips covered in black. Without thinking, Aziraphale lunged for the body. He wrapped his arms tightly around the demon’s frame as he buried his face into his shoulder. “Aziraphale?”</p><p>“You’re not dead,” Aziraphale whimpered.</p><p>“No? Why would you think that I was…” Suddenly, it all clicked into place. His eyes found the demonic remains with the objects thrown in it that were some of the possessions one would have to pry out of his hands. “Oh, Aziraphale… You don’t think that I would ever–”</p><p>“What was I supposed to think?” Aziraphale pulled back and began shouting through the tears streaming down his face. “You told me you were tired. You told me you were done. What was I supposed to think when I heard you scream? When I came here to find… this?” he gestured to the puddle that he was now realizing smelled nothing like the demon in front of him. Even melted down into nothing, Aziraphale knew Crowley would never smell of decay. Of loathing and anger.</p><p>“My plants,” Crowley said.</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“My plants,” he repeated. “I was screaming at them.”</p><p>“Oh, those poor things,” Aziraphale wiped at his face with his sleeves peering around the demon to catch a glimpse of the most verdant garden he had seen since The Garden. “They’re beautiful.”</p><p>Crowley cleared his throat. “Yeah, I make sure they stay that way. If they know what’s good for them,” he shot them a final glare before closing the wall behind him. “Aziraphale, I’m sorry.”</p><p>“No,” the angel shook his head. “No, you have nothing to apologize for, You’ve had nothing to apologize for all these years.” His watery blue eyes met the demon’s golden ones. “I am the one who should be apologizing to you. I’ve pushed you away, doubted you, denied you… all out of fear for myself. But no more,” he slowly raised a hand to cup the demon’s cheek. “No more.”</p><p>Crowley broke the eye contact, clearing his throat again and taking a half step back from the angel. “So you’re saying we can be friends now?”</p><p>Aziraphale gave him a watery smile. “My dear, we’ve been friends. I’d like to… try something new.”</p><p>“Like what? We were already enemies, too.”</p><p>“There’s a third option, here, dearest.” Crowley blushed a little, his head jerking forward slightly on its own. His eyes flickered down, then back up, his breath catching in his throat. “May I?” Aziraphale whispered, faces so close together. Crowley could only nod.</p><p>He wasn’t expecting his first kiss to be salty with tears. But it was. And it was perfect.</p>
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